Explore "On the Brink of a Chasm" by L.T. Meade on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Having seen Tarbot out, Nurse Ives returned to her own room and sat down in front of the gas stove. It was a warm night-warm and damp. There was a thick fog outside, one of those fogs which are the first forerunners of autumn. But, warm as it was, the woman felt cold. She held out her two thin hands to the warmth of the stove, then, suppressing a shudder, she got up and went on tiptoe into the room where little Piers Pelham was lying fast asleep. He slept soundly, and he looked beautiful-there was an angelic smile on his small face.
A queer, new expression came over the woman's face.